


Dying with Living Steps

by LiKan



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-24
Updated: 2018-03-24
Packaged: 2019-04-07 06:39:24
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,332
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14075127
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LiKan/pseuds/LiKan
Summary: Yeah he's high.





	Dying with Living Steps

**Author's Note:**

  * A translation of [时时渴死，步步求生](https://archiveofourown.org/works/5661979) by [LiKan](https://archiveofourown.org/users/LiKan/pseuds/LiKan). 



> Just some trash I wrote of the first year in my college, back then my life sucks so characters I wrote were suck too.  
> This is the mental state of a young stoner Sherlock, and also me.  
> And I called this stream of consciousness hahahahahahahahaha.  
> Please don't read, you've been warned.

 

His arms and legs were wide open, and the greatest mind of the world was sitting quietly on the teak floor, the pale eyes and the needles were close enough to kiss each other, and the light subtly flickered in the pale gray pupils and twisted into glittering gold, as the sun rises over the clear sky of London; he lies here, and does nothing else, letting the Great Python of Bored, which supports the world in the void, walk slowly and intimately toward him, feeling the heat of the water and the boiling oil, within seven seconds the palace collapsed and again became a new one; he saw that Tower of Babel, reaching high into the clouds, had punctured the soles of his feet and begun to grow, pressing up and up along the Ridge and his particularly sharp cheekbones, breaking the ceiling of his heavenly soul, his eternity is broken apart, and the raging flood of doom engulfs him, the bronze and the Golden Minions ran in panic on his extraordinarily large limbs, and the neatly lined army crossed his finger of Pyrenees and screamed, and in a moment he was drowned; He lay here looking at his blood brother, sneered that he was smothered with fat, because he wanted him to look like this; the electricity was on in the room, and the room should not have been electrified, he jumped as if someone had smitten his penis with a whip dipped in hot pepper and salt water, and he fell down, burying the groan in the ground decently, and shrieked his mother with a shrill shriek to cast out the irritating light --

 

He was sailing again, he and the magnificent skull of his heart were eager to take over the world, and he ran around the garden laughing with his big ceremonial hat, the brim was hitting his eyelids, his pretense of being a one eyed viking, or the Saxon Bull, his curving lips bent with a few words of the pirates in order to shout loudly towards the world, he cut off half his knee with a huge blade, without fear; Mycroft ate another piece of his cake, and the sweet smell of baked sweetness clung to the fresh, damp smell of the leaves after being steamed by the heat; and he took a nap in the shade, the wavy, wet hair obediently pressed against his scalp and cheeks and forehead and neck, and the rustle of leaves through the summer wind told him that the philosopher king had finally jumped out of the grass to avoid the vulgar world, for his vision of the world is always a dream -- he roars like a pure beast, licking his tusks with bloody tongue, he drops the apple which had been handed over, with the drooping venomous of the whole world, it burst into the dust and spattered with crystal juice, and rolled aside. No one cares. Mycroft walked away.

 

He could not bear the silence, and he whirled around his brother, his pale lips chattered about, Caligula the great's lustful late days in power, Arthur schopenhauer’s swinging swing, he said to the bookcase, He said to the enchanting red flame from the fireplace, and he said to his trousers, he spoke, and spoke, and opened his mouth, shed blood, and twisted into a poor scribble. So, what's next, then? The young one asked. Then there was no one to kiss his dry, light lips. His brother sang a high hymn in a deep voice, and my pure daffodils did not open his golden Buds, and the white, silver buds closed into a large head, and he had not sipped a morsel of morning dew, poor narcissus, at last, he clung the soft green ground and died.

 

He floated up, no, he didn't want wings, so he sank fast, the sound of the water kissed his ear, and endorphin and epinephrine jumped from zero to five thousand three hundred and eighty-two, and his bladder was swollen and his chest was hot, he was like an ant falling from a tall building. Like a light silk on a cliff, he kept popping down and down, and the greatest brain in the world stamped on the floor with all his strength, cracked open like a egg, and the blood-red color crept up the floor and was, bored--

 

I'm going to make your tablet out of a black, smooth stone, engraved with a gilded name, bored--

 

Say it, Doctor. My friend is, bored --

 

Bored, bored, BORED.

 

The snake tore gently at him, his golden-blue pupils narrowed into a camel-sized mass, and the cold, mercury-like things came out of his belly, and the roar and grim face were fast-fowarded like most boring thing in the world, he knew this was his hell, on the old, yellowed, rolled-up, gun-riddled, damp-smelling wallpaper. Des... Mono... Des.

 

The cool things licked up his perineum a little by little, and re-entered the empty space in his chest. He stared at the wallpaper for a long, long time, and the whole world he was trying to conquer was on that crumpled piece of paper, and the joyful and encouraging emotion returned to his eyes, and he clenched his fingers to hold the world in his hands. The hand of the great spirit, like thunder and stones falling from the sky, crumbled him into a lump of mud, took her, took him, took him --

 

He and his blue robe rotted in the ground, and he stood alone on the beach, brackish froth brushing his feet, his eyes like molten Iron, he held a handful of gravel and heard that noise he had heard a thousand times, and the time flowed freely through him, as if a dull knife had been cut into the flesh, pulling and howling, leaving marks, one second, two seconds, three seconds, this is his hell; He sat in the hall, separating the carrots from the beans, he lets the hunger first eat his intestines, muscles, and finally his heart, leaving the brain to limp along the dank mud, go on, go on, sail on, captain, my captain, his eyes are deep, his hair is almost falling off, his nails are creasing and growing into flesh, he is white as yellow and black, and his teeth rot in his gums, his insides were torn to pieces, and the dark blue ink of eternity crept up his arms, and huddled together to mock him with a small, shrill voice. Take me away, he said, looking at the dark lady for the first time, give him another year.

 

Let's give him another year. She said.

 

He awoke, as if in a dream, the color blocks were gradually separated and catalogued, and the smell of it was scrabbling at his brain, as if the body had been ransomed for Saint Sebastian, Mother Teresa and Mycroft. At last he opened his eyes, and the tears scrambled out of his eyes, wetting the bed, and he could not speak. Someone turned off the light. The intense, searing, intense pain that engulfed all his consciousness, and he felt the silence now, that darkness was always his cloak draped over his shoulders, or a veil that covered his face; it was a short time before he came back to life, the lightness of the light touched his arms and palms, and he did everything in his power and only slightly quiver his fingertips. It was as if the butterfly's flapping kiss fell noiselessly on his skin, his fingers running past his scalp and splitting his skull, and the young Holmes stood back to back and pretended to be one person, that was thirty years ago. A silent sigh slipped from the tip of his tongue, and his mangled words tickled him with the intricacies of the harp, and his throat was as hoarse as a thousand mills, he said.

 

After five minutes of what seemed like a year, he fell into a stupor again.

 


End file.
